


I will make you believe you are lovely

by zach_stone



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Before the events of the cabin/twins going missing, Climbing Class, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Canon, Queerplatonic Relationships, protect Josh Washington 2k15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 19:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5018263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zach_stone/pseuds/zach_stone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not the first bad night he’s had when Chris is over, but that doesn’t make it less hard.</p><p>--</p><p>Here's some QPR Climbing Class (my favorite thing) for your enjoyment. Lots of sad/self-loathing Josh and protective comforting Chris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I will make you believe you are lovely

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written QPR stuff before, but I adore the idea of Josh and Chris being queerplatonic partners, and I'm a sucker for hurt/comfort shit so there's that. I hope you enjoy!!

Josh is -- unfortunately -- awake. He keeps his eyes shut at first, hoping that maybe for once he’ll just fall back asleep. The shivery anxiety creeping into his gut tells him otherwise, and he reluctantly opens his eyes, staring at the dark abyss of his ceiling. He shifts in his bed carefully, hoping the creaky boxsprings won’t wake Chris, who is sleeping on the air mattress on the floor. Josh looks at the alarm clock on his nightstand. 3:45 a.m. Great.

The feeling is stronger now, an overall sense of impending doom. This is how it always happens; he’ll go from a numb, dull existence to a sudden stab of heightened terror. He sits up in bed, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to his chest, bringing his knees up to press his forehead against them. _Deep breaths, Josh, deep breaths_ , the voice of his psychiatrist echoes in his head, sing-songy and mocking. Dr. Hill doesn’t really sound like that, but it’s how Josh feels. He feels talked down to. He feels like a goddamn child.

The darkness feels heavy, like it’s pressing in on him from every side. He desperately wants to wake Chris, but a sneering voice in his head reprimands him for needing comfort. _What are you, five years old? Need a cuddle after a nightmare?_

“Chris?” he croaks, his voice barely even a whisper. He hates himself for it. He hates himself even more when he hears Chris’s sharp intake of breath, followed by a disoriented grunt.

“Yeah?” Chris responds groggily. Josh considers pretending to still be asleep, hoping his friend will go back to bed, too, but Chris is sitting up now and can clearly see that Josh is awake, still hugging that stupid pillow.

It’s not the first bad night he’s had when Chris is over, but that doesn’t make it less hard.

Chris, for his part, doesn’t seem too bothered by being awake. He kicks off the blankets on his bed and stands up, shuffling over to Josh’s bed and poking his shoulder through the comforter he’s got wrapped around himself. “Scoot,” he says.

Josh obliges, and Chris sits down on the bed. His hair is sticking up and his eyes are squinty without his glasses. He looks tired. Josh feels like shit.

He wants to say, “you can go back to bed.” But what comes out is, “I’m scared.”

“Bad dream?” Chris asks, turning to face him more. His face is dimly lit by the alarm clock’s blue digital light, and his brow is furrowed in concern.

“Something like that,” Josh mumbles.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Josh grits his teeth. He looks at Chris, whose face is full of pity, and a hot rush of anger floods him, momentarily replacing his fear. “No, I don’t. And stop fucking looking at me like that.”

Chris’s face falls, the pity replaced with guilt and embarrassment. Josh feels a vindictive pleasure in seeing Chris upset before the venom fades as quickly as it had come, and then he just feels terrible again. Why did he have to be a dick? Chris just wanted to help. Chris always wants to help. That’s the problem, Josh thinks. Chris doesn’t seem to realize (or care) that Josh is someone to be avoided, and Josh is too selfish to push him away.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t -- I didn’t mean it.”

“S’okay,” Chris says. He stifles a yawn. Josh feels the panic rising in his chest, clutching at his throat and making him want to scream, or sob, or both.

He settles for a pathetic whimper. Chris’s head jerks up instantly, and his hand hovers above Josh’s elbow, like he’s afraid to touch him. “Bro?”

Josh attempts to respond with words, but a gurgly kind of whine comes out instead. Chris’s hand comes to rest heavily on his elbow, anchoring him. He reaches out to grip Chris’s arm, fingers twisting in the fabric of his friend’s pajama shirt.

“How can I help?” Chris asks gently. Josh shakes his head. Chris needs to stop being so freaking nice. Josh doesn’t deserve it, he was just being an asshole a minute ago, how can Chris be so nice when Josh is so mean, so pathetic and mean? He puts his head down again. He feels Chris adjusting, and then two strong arms are hugging him, and Chris’s chin is resting on top of his head. He tries to calm himself, but his breathing is getting shallower and he feels tears burning against his eyes. He doesn’t even know what he’s so afraid of -- the fear is just there, twisting his insides.

“Here,” Chris says, prying Josh’s hand off his arm and placing it against his own chest. “Feel that? Feel my breaths? You do that, okay? Just in and out.”

Josh can feel Chris’s heart beating through the fabric of his shirt. He exhales slowly, taking a shaky breath in that’s a bit calmer than the one before. Chris’s heart rate speeds up a bit when Josh says, “C-can you hug me some more?”

Chris obliges, and Josh’s hand is trapped between them, pressed against his friend’s chest. He feels one of Chris’s hands flutter against the nape of his neck, and then he gets the distinct sensation of someone kissing the top of his head.

That’s new. It’s surprising enough to momentarily pull him out of his spiral. He leans away from Chris to look at him. They’re close enough that Josh can see his friend’s confused face even in the darkness.

“Did you just kiss my head?” he asks. Chris looks sheepish.

“Uh, yeah,” he says.

“Why?” Josh asks, more puzzled than bothered.

“It, it seemed like the right thing to do, I guess?” Chris says. “I thought it would distract you or something. Plus it’s, you know, a comforting gesture.”

“Hm,” Josh says. The fear is still there, bubbling below the surface, but he feels less like he’s drowning and more like he’s floating, still uneasy but not in any danger. He rubs his eyes. It’s well past four in the morning now, and exhaustion is hitting him full force. He extricates himself from Chris with some reluctance. “I think I’m okay now,” he says. “We should sleep.”

“You sure?” Chris asks. Josh’s heart twinges painfully at the worry in Chris’s voice. He wishes he wasn’t such a burden, such a thing to fuss over.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Thanks for the cuddles, buddy.” He attempts to smile, but it feels only partially sincere.

“Cuddle master, right here,” Chris says, returning the smile with a more real one. He slides off the bed and Josh instantly misses his warmth. He watches as Chris gets back under the covers on the air mattress. “Wake me up if you need anything, okay?” he says. Josh sighs.

“Yeah,” he mutters, and then he curls up on his side, away from Chris, squeezing his eyes shut.

When he wakes up again, it’s a little past seven, and light is filtering through his blinds. He doesn’t feel scared anymore, but now he feels achingly sad. _The fun-filled roller coaster to hell never stops, huh?_ he thinks, even as a tear makes its way down his face. He wipes it away furiously. Why is he crying? What does he have to be so sad about? Pathetic, selfish, ungrateful -- the words fight for dominance in his head, echoing louder and louder. He lets out a dry sob.

“Josh?” Chris sounds like he’s been awake for a while now, and Josh feels humiliated. Chris climbs into his bed again, and he sits up, rubbing his fists against his eyes to get rid of his tears.

“Didn’t mean to wake you up,” Josh says, clearing his throat.

“It’s cool, I was already awake,” Chris says. “What’s going on?”

“You don’t have to do that,” Josh says. Chris frowns.

“Do what?”

“Check up on me.”

Chris makes a _tsk_ sound. “Dude, you’re my friend. That’s what friends _do_.”

Josh feels the sting of tears returning. He shakes his head, but he can’t find it in him to argue with Chris now. “I’m just… sad,” he says, answering his friend’s earlier question.

“About something in particular?”

“I don’t know. It’s just something that happens.” He feels more tears trickling down his face, but he ignores them. “I just feel so fucking disgusting,” he says. “Why am I like this, huh? I’ve got a great fucking life, why isn’t that enough for me?”

“That’s not how depression works, man,” Chris says. Josh scowls. He’s heard that a million times, and he knows that if he were hearing his own words from a friend’s mouth he’d say the same thing. But he can’t help feeling that in his particular case, it’s all bullshit. _That’s the depression talking_ , Dr. Hill would say. Josh wants to punch him in his smug sneering jaw.

“I’m not a good person,” Josh breathes. Chris makes a sad sound in his throat. Josh can’t look at him. “I don’t deserve your sympathy. I’m just… worthless.”

“Dude…” Chris puts his hand on Josh’s shoulder. “Don’t talk like that.”

“Chris?” he says suddenly. “Can you distract me again?” Chris looks confused, so he clarifies, “Like last night.”

“Oh.” Chris seems to understand, because he scoots so he’s facing Josh directly, then grips him in a tight hug, one hand rubbing small circles on his back, the other carding through his hair. It’s so nice, and Josh wants to tell himself that he doesn’t deserve this, that Chris probably feels so awkward embracing his best friend like a lover, but before the intrusive thoughts can weigh him down, Chris is pulling back. They’re still close, faces inches apart, and Chris is looking at Josh with a tenderness that almost hurts.

“I don’t want you to think you’re disgusting, or worthless,” he says softly. Josh doesn’t know what to say. Chris’s face is so close. His breath hitches when his friend says, “Tell me to stop if you don’t like this,” and then Chris presses his lips to Josh’s.

It’s just a dry, closed-mouth kiss, but there’s a gentle sweetness to it that only heightens the ache in Josh’s chest. Chris leans back, eyeing him nervously.

“What…?” Josh says helplessly, feeling lost but not bothered by this turn of events.

“Well, kissing your hair seemed to distract you pretty well last night, so I thought I’d amp up my game,” Chris says, looking shy even as he tries to joke.

“So was that a ‘game’ then?” Josh asks. He’s not angry, he’s just trying to piece this all together.

“No, no,” Chris says quickly. “I mean, it was just… I don’t know. You were saying all these bad things about yourself, and I wanted to show you that you were wrong. You _do_ deserve sympathy and compassion and you’re worth something, Josh. You’re worth something to me, and I don’t care if that sounds gay.”

Josh lets out a small chuckle despite himself. “It sounds a little gay. But… thank you.” He looks at Chris with shining eyes. “I think I needed that.”

“I’d do it again, anytime,” Chris says honestly. “Is that weird?”

“Chris? Um, I just want to check with you here… what are you feeling right now?”

“That you’re my best friend, and I care about you, and I want you to know it.” Chris shrugs. “I’m not crushing on your or something if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Yeah, okay, me neither,” Josh says, nodding. “But… that was nice. I liked it.”

“Just one bro helping another bro out,” Chris jokes, and Josh lightly punches his arm.

“I’m gonna take a shower, _bro_ ,” he says. “Sometimes that helps me clear my head.”

“Go for it, I’ll be here,” Chris says, giving Josh’s hand a quick squeeze.

 

And that’s how it started. It soon became commonplace during their sleepovers for Chris to cuddle Josh, or for the two of them to sleep in the same bed. They kissed a couple more times, the same chaste kind of kiss as that first time, and it’s good. Josh feels a little more grounded with this intimacy. They’ve both agreed it’s not romantic -- Chris is still head over heels for Ashley, which Josh teases him about constantly even as they snuggle together on his bed watching a movie. It’s a closeness, like a constant physical reminder that Josh is wanted, Josh is loved, Josh is not worthless. When he starts to shrink in on himself, the nasty thoughts creeping up on him, Chris will just put his arm around him, or play with his hair, and it helps pull him away from the edge. They don’t tell anyone about these moments, not because they’re ashamed but because it’s _theirs_ , something no one else needs to share in. Chris can read him better than anyone, knowing within moments if Josh is feeling angry or sad or listless, knowing exactly what he needs to help him through a tough spot. Josh still feels a little guilty and a little pathetic for being so reliant on another person, but Chris never seems to mind.

“You really set the bar for best friends everywhere,” Josh tells him once. Chris laughs, ruffling Josh’s hair and yelping when Josh retaliates.

“That’s what happens when you’re friends with the cuddle master,” Chris tells him. Josh feels warm and happy when his best friend is around. Sometimes, now, when he leans his head against Chris’s shoulder, he even feels safe.

 


End file.
